A/N: ah, another story. crap. i shouldnt, but i went out of town and this was in my head the WHOLE time. so i just got home an hour ago, and it was the first thing i did. im not sure how long itll be or how itll end, but im kind of excited about this one. if i write another chapter, ill probably explain more, because hopefully ill have a better idea of where exactly i'm going with it. but tell me what you think so far. enjoy and review.

chapter one

He moved discreetly from the shadows as she closed the door to her flat behind her. "You're home late," he said.

She jumped, looking up from the table where she was setting her keys, her eyes searching the dark to find him, seeing his silhouette by the window.

"How did you get in?" she asked, not bothering to turn on a light, even though she had dropped her groceries and dark settings usually did not end well for them.

"You should have moved that key from above your door."

"Logan," she warned, not in the mood.

He smirked at her distress, then frowned as he saw her apparel. A silk black halter dress and a pair of heels. "You went out," he stated.

"How do you know?"

"You don't wear that to work. And you reek of smoke." Her eyes darted elsewhere but his face. "Did he kiss you like I do?"

She shrugged. "No one does."

She was right, and they both knew it. This wasn't the first time that he had shown up here unannounced. They had met once, at a bar, and with one night spent in The Ritz, the rest was history.

It seemed they fit best into each other's lives at night. So, instead of having a steady, normal person relationship, they had nights together. Nine hours two, maybe three times a week, the only nine hours that was ever real to either of them.

They never told each other how important these nights had come to be.

He walked to where she was standing in front of the locked door and she saw he was still in his work clothes. Expensive, pressed suit. Expensive shoes, expensive everything.

She ran a hand down his jaw line, a feather light touch, one he had come to love and wait for on these nights with her.

"Long day?" she asked softly. He breathed in her vanilla scent, still discernible over the faint smell of cigarettes.

"Where did you meet him?" Another step closer, his lips dancing on her cheekbone.

"Who?" she breathed. It was the right answer; the inability to remember. He captured her lips in a less than chaste kiss, pushing her against the door.

He had known today that he was going to come to her place tonight. A single phone call from his father that pissed him off, and he knew he needed her, her touch, her reassurance of stability in at least one aspect of his world. As he thought about it during his three hour newspaper meeting with his employees, he couldn't figure out which part of his life she had molded herself in.

"Logan," she sighed, "I have ice cream in those bags." She pointed to the brown paper sacks on the floor.

He stepped back and smirked while she bent down and put the groceries back in the bag they had fallen out of. She plopped one back into his arms and she picked up the other and led them to her kitchen.

Before they reached the kitchen she slipped out of her heels, arching her feet to relieve them of the aches of the day, a habit he noted she had. It was something she had almost always done whenever he had come over. Except, for the times when he was relieving the stress in…other ways.

"Must have been some date if you had to stop by and pick up food on the way home," he said, pulling bread out of a bag.

She took the ice cream out of the bag and jumped up on the counter, grabbing a spoon from the drawer next to her. She shrugged, "It was fine. A typical, sucky date."

"That's why you should stick with me." He said it before he realized what he had said, but she kept eating her ice cream without missing a beat.

"When? When you decide I'm worthy of your time?" she asked in a calm voice.


"Or when you need a good fuck to make you forget about Daddy and the big bad newspaper. I've been told, by you, I might add, that's what I'm good for."

"I was drunk that night, Rory."

This wasn't how either wanted the night to go, but he should have known not to get her started. She was too stubborn to let anything slip past and he was too stubborn to not put up an argument. They made one hell of an couple.

"Whatever," she said, jumping down from the counter. "You know where the door is. Leave any time."

She threw the carton of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food ice cream in the freezer, attempting to walk past him. His arm caught her wrist and pulled her to him, crashing her lips to his. Despite just eating ice cream, she was on fire, and when he pushed her against the refrigerator, she didn't feel the cold.

She tugged on his shirt, and took him to her bedroom. She let him have her, allowing the things that were just said to slip away, to just forget for one more night about their stupid arrangement.

She knew that in the morning, like the night, he would be gone, but for now, she let him in her life, and her bed, and allowed him to just hold her until the sun came.